


Flight School

by Sonora



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Flying, M/M, Multi, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonora/pseuds/Sonora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stacker takes Yancy flying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight School

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SublimeDiscordance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/gifts).



Yancy’s halfway through his preflight check by the time he notices his instructor hasn’t shown up yet. He likes Lisa; as a former Army aviator who separated in order to raise her and her new husband’s blended family, they’ve got a lot in common. She’s already been kicking his ass on the ground portion of the class, though, and she promised things were only going to get tougher once they were in the air.

Yancy had talked to her yesterday. She knows this is scheduled. Right?

With a sigh, he tucks the clipboard under his elbow and heads back inside, into the little hanger that serves as the base’s civilian flight school. Maybe she’s got a problem with one of the kids, or something. She’s got three now, and he knows just how tough that can be.

But. Still.

It’s a little irritating. She’s got his cell number, she could have called. It’s not like this is any other day. It’s his first flight. His very first flight behind the controls, and...

“Yancy, didn’t realize you were outside already.”

It’s Stacker. Standing there in his flight suit, looking edible. As always. 

“Hey,” Yancy says, stepping forward for a hug from his husband. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good. Easy day at the unit.” A big hand settles on the small of his back, and since there’s nobody else around, Yancy lets himself snuggle a little closer to that delicious rumble. “Nice and sunny out there for your first flight, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well, the instructor hasn’t shown up yet, so maybe I’ll have to cancel...”

“I know.” Stacker says, and pushes his chin up. “I phoned her, told her to stay home.”

“You... what?”

“You really think I’m going to let some ex-Army girl take my boy up for the first time?”

Yancy blinks. “What?”

“Took the afternoon off, love. C’mon, I’ll be taking you up today.” And then Stacker grins. “Or, I suppose, you’ll be taking me up.”

It’s not that they haven’t done this before. In fact, it was Stacker who first drug Yancy down to the Aero Club, about six months after they PCS’ed to Ramstein. He’d been a little lost at first, dividing his time between getting the kids settled and getting them moved into the house and not much else. He’d been thinking about getting a job - it’s stupid, because he’ll never make as much as Herc does, but he has to contribute something to the family, doesn’t he? - but nothing had really been available.

Then Stacker picked him up for lunch one rainy Wednesday afternoon, and drove him to the air field.

“Get your head out of your arse, love. We all know what it is you really want to be doing.”

Tuition’s steeply discounted for spouses, and with the extended program Yancy selected, he can put what he’s doing towards a degree. There’s literally no better way to do it, which Stacker explained and the GS-11 who runs the place confirmed. He does feel a little guilty about it, but every day he comes down here for class, he can see the planes out on the apron, and it’s just...

It’s exciting.

It’s nice to be excited about something again. Doesn’t hurt that Raleigh thinks it’s totally bad-ass, or that Charlie’s already asking if he can have a ride with Uncle Yance.

But seeing Stacker here, now...

“What do you mean, taking you up?”

Stacker’s already headed for the door. “I told her I wasn’t about to let my husband go up for the first time with some ex-Army ground pounder!”

The dots finally connect in his brain, and then he’s scrambling to catch up.

Stacker lets him walk them through the pre-flight checklist - Yancy’s got more time on this particular airframe than his husband does, who doesn’t get to fly much anymore in his new billet - and offers him the mic, when it comes time to actually taxi out to the runway. His heart’s pounding, though; Yancy doesn’t trust his own voice.

He shakes his head.

Stacker just chuckles.

“Hands on the yoke. Let’s get her in the air.”

“I...”

“You know what to do, love. Trust yourself. It’s no more complicated than driving a car.”

Yancy gives him a look. “What the hell kind of car are you driving?”

“Did I tell you Herc wants to buy a 911?”

Yancy groans.

Stacker’s still laughing as he talks to the tower, getting them clearance for the flight plan Yancy painstakingly filed the day before.

It’s a strange feeling, actually taxing out. The civilian hanger’s on the opposite side of the field as the military, which Yancy’s grateful for. He was so sure he was going to be flying one of those F-16s someday; a single engine Cessna’s just not the same thing. But even at that, there’s this bubble of nervousness, mixed with a dozen different emotions he can’t identify boiling just below the surface. 

His stomach is churning, but no way is he going to throw up. Yancy’s seen this view before, on his orientation flight with Lisa. He’s gonna be fine. He’s not going to crash the plane or stall it out or any of the other things that played out in his nightmares last night. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be _fine_.

Although he does almost lose it when they’re actually pulling out, white lines stretching out before the tiny plane’s windshield, out into eternity.

The call comes in from the tower. They’re cleared for take-off.

“Stacker...”

“You’re fine, baby. Give her some throttle.”

Yancy’s grateful Stacker’s here, because it feels like his brain has just gone blank. All the studying he did for this, the practice in the little Cessna sim, it’s just gone. The plane’s going too fast, not fast enough, he can’t quite hold the centerline perfectly, the wings are shaking, fuck, he’s breaking the thing...

“Pull up, pull up now, nice and slow, just like...”

And there’s a sensation, familiar and completely new, of the ground falling away.

He’s in the air.

He’s actually in the air, with his hand on the yoke.

Yancy can’t stop the tears that suddenly well up in his eyes, blurring his vision, hot and wonderful. He can’t stop them from coursing down his cheeks, either. His hands are tightening down on the worn foam between them, his chest tightening up, even as the quick, low clouds are getting closer.

He’s flying.

He’s...

He just starts laughing.

Laughing, because this is the best thing in the world, the thing he’s wanted forever, since he realized it was a thing he could want, and there’s really nothing to do with that but laugh.

Stacker doesn’t say anything, but he does put a hand on Yancy’s knee, squeezing a little. Yancy looks over at him, dashing the moisture off his cheeks, wanting to make some lame joke to cover up his embarrassing little outburst. But the way Stacker’s looking at him right now? Like... like that, like the way he looked at Yancy on the night they signed the wedding papers, when Herc and Stacks tackled him into bed and made him forget how to _breathe_?

Yancy doesn’t understand it, why these two treat him like he’s something precious.

But right then, the warmth of it is exactly what he needs.

“C’mon, Stacks. Thought you were gonna show me how to fly, not just sit there and admire the view.”

“Cheeky boy,” Stacker says, and his voice is full of love.

They’re on the ground and back at the Aero Club hanger forty-five minutes later. But Stacker stops them, before they can head back inside.

“Yancy,” he murmurs, pulling the younger man back to him, fingers hooked in the waistband of his jeans, “a moment, if you will.”

Yancy goes willingly, turning back into Stacker, not sure what to expect. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“Promise me something.”

He tilts his head. “What’s that?”

And Stacker gently pushes those big, blunt fingers into Yancy’s hair, around the back of his head, cradling his skull. “Promise me, darling, that you’ll not give up on flying.”

He opens his mouth, and closes it again, surprised. “I... no, of course not.”

“I mean it. Not for me or Herc or the kids or anything. I’ve never seen you look that happy. It was beautiful, you, you were beautiful.” Stacker kisses him. “You deserve your own happiness.”

It hits home, and Yancy has to close his eyes for a second, gripping Stacker’s arm tight when he opens them again. “You guys... you make me happy.”

“Yeah, but so does flying. So promise me, Yancy. This in non-negotiable.”

He swallows, all the lingering guilt he’s felt about taking this time for himself fading a bit. “Okay. I promise.”

“Good,” and Stacker kisses him again. “Now let’s get you home. Herc’s going to be bloody jealous I got to pop your piloting cherry, but that’s what the old bastard gets for flying helos instead of a proper airplane, eh?”

And Yancy laughs.

Feels good, laughing.


End file.
